Questions and No Answers
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: He was never meant to play the hero. And yet there he was.:: JugheadBetty, spoilers for s1e5


He's always known that he's nothing special. An inquisitive mind, a constant seeker of truth. But those things mean so little in the grand scheme of things. He knows that he isn't meant to play the hero. That's a role more suited for someone like Archie.

But it isn't Archie that Betty messages. It's him, Jughead Jones, the outcast, the nobody.

He adjusts his crown beanie and ducks his head against the sudden gust of wind. Rain pelts him, soaking him to the bone, but he continues his trek until he finds her, standing a little too close to the ledge of a cliff overlooking Sweetwater River.

"Juggie," she says, so softly that her voice is almost drowned out by the roar of the storm and the water below.

Jughead hurries to her as quickly as he can, his feet slipping in the mud and snagging on roots that bulge through the earth. "Betty, what are you doing?" he asks nervously.

He's heard the whispers through town. The Coopers are a bit unhinged. Just look at Mama Cooper, and of course, poor Polly. But Jughead has never believed them. _Insanity runs through that family._

"Get away the ledge, Bets," he says, reaching out for her.

"You think I came here to kill myself?"

Jughead raises his brows. It's exactly what the current situation looks like. "Didn't you?"

"No. I mean… I don't know. I don't know what to do anymore," she admits, and when she wipes her eyes, he doesn't know if she's wiping away the rain or tears.

He takes her hand, guiding her away. "I don't think any of us know what to do," he says with a laugh. "Small towns are known for their football games, not their murder mysteries."

Betty shakes his head, her eyes flickering back to the water's edge. "It isn't about Jason. Not entirely," she says. "My parents lied to me. Polly and Jason were engaged, and I… Everything they've told me is a lie, Jug."

He nods. He's known this has been bothering her since their encounter with Cheryl's grandmother during their investigation at the memorial. He had seen the look on her face at the old woman's words. And after her talk with her father, she had turned to Jughead for… What? Answers? He could only provide more questions. Support? Why him? Navigating social interactions and human emotions have always been unfamiliar territory to him, and she knows that.

And yet it had been him. And it's him that she's called here now. Not Archie, the hero, or even Veronica, the daring leader.

"Why won't they let me see her, or at least talk to her?" Betty asks.

More questions. Jughead wonders if that's all there will ever be. Question after question, with no hope of a solution.

He wraps his arms around her. He isn't meant to play the hero, and yet he steps into the role so quickly. "We'll find out," he says, and maybe he feels guilty because his words sound so hollow, so full of doubt, even to his own ears. "You and me, Bets. Will find out together. I promise."

Betty nods, and he can feel relief all the way into his bones. But he knows that he hasn't saved her. No. Perfect Betty Cooper, the quiet storm, isn't a damsel in distress. A lost soul, perhaps, wandering blindly, but never a damsel. She's always been able to save herself, and he's only just guiding her along.

She wraps her arms around him, shivering as the rain continues to fall around them. "I didn't mean to worry you," she whispers. "I didn't know who else to trust with this. But you… You're special, Jug."

He wants to laugh. Again, he's reminded of just how unextraordinary he is. But she says the words with such conviction that he can almost make himself believe that he's worth more than just clever one liners and obscure movie references.

She leans in, pressing a kiss to his lips. Jughead closes his eyes, smiling into the kiss. In a fictional world, there would be fireworks and a sea of moments depicting their future together, he thinks, because it just feels so right.

"Let's get you home," he says softly, pulling away and taking her by the hand.

"I don't want to go home."

Jughead bites the inside of his cheek. He can hear her silent plea. _Take me away, Juggie. Anywhere but home._

He wishes he could offer something better. A warm, dry bed where she could rest and forget her troubles for just one moment, a hot tub where she could let the heat melt away her pain. But he has none of that.

"Burgers and shakes at Pop's?" he suggests. "I'm buying."

"It's a date," Betty laughs.


End file.
